


Backseat Confession

by psychedelicgoolash



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicgoolash/pseuds/psychedelicgoolash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was moments like these he wondered why he let that Jewish son of a bitch ensnare him like he did. How Kyle could just wrap him around his finger as he rolled onto his back, allowing Cartman full access to his unfastened jeans. Aged Up. Kyman. Smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backseat Confession

“Hold on,” Cartman didn’t listen. He very rarely listened. Kyle’s pants were already unbuttoned, his belt sagging the front of his jeans open, letting Cartman slide a thick hand down like it was an invitation. His fingers barely braced the thick hair beneath his boxers before Kyle hissed, shooting the other boy a pointed look.

 “Damn it, I said _hold on_! Would it kill you to listen to me for one second?” Kyle twisted enough for his intruding grasp to slide free, making Cartman scoff. Kyle’s eyes never left the phone that illuminated his whole face.

 Kyle Broflovski was considered one of the cuter boys in class by the girls. With big green eyes and a nice smile, he was attractive, albeit he had some… Well, character in his features. Flaming red hair hidden underneath his hat, with dark eyebrows, long lashes and pale skin. He had a distinctive nose, or as Cartman liked to say, a ‘ _nose of his people_ ,’ that curved and sloped downwards. Kyle hated his nose. Cartman, who reached again unsuccessfully for his groin, thought it was just part of who he was: A Jew, but that didn’t make this part of his face any less endearing despite teasing him about it.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, you need to fucking _talk_ for me to listen, not type on your phone.” The heavier boy leaned backwards comfortably in the back seat of his mother’s station wagon, the aged leather creaking from his weight. “Excuse me for forgetting about your _boyfriend_. Didn’t know he’d be joining us tonight. Third fucking wheel, as per usual...”

 Now facing him, Kyle was resting on the back of his calves as he typed away at the touch screen of his phone. Cartman didn’t fail to miss a glare thrown in his direction before he looked back down at his fingers. “Shut up, Cartman.”

 “No, seriously, I get it. Stan needs to hear from you. Kyle, his best friend and confident. I’m pretty sure secret lover.” Cartman was fighting not to smile, his comments mostly good natured. _Mostly_. Every joke had some truth to it, after all. “What, is he drunk again and weeping over Wendy? You know, I always took you as the chick in the relationship—”

 “Don’t start this,” Kyle lowered the phone from his face momentarily to direct a slightly biting comment in the larger boy’s direction. “Now you’re just being a dick. He’s in a bad way right now...”

 “So,” Cartman threaded his fingers together in mock interest and rested them against one knee. “As I assumed?” Kyle ignored his sarcasm.

 “Yeah, she’s giving him a tough time.” The redhead looked slightly exacerbated, Cartman rolling his eyes at his pity.

 “It can’t wait?” Kyle tucked the device into his pocket, looking irked by his commentary. “How convenient he texts you now, while we’re trying to get it on—”

 “Why do you have to do that?!” As if burned, the fire in Kyle’s irises quickly hushed Cartman.

 “...Do what? Jesus Christ, Jew, relax a little—”

 “No! You make all these terrible… _Accusations_ about Stan and I!” Crossing his arms, Kyle turned his head towards the front seat defiantly, with eyes narrowed and his shoulders rigid. Gazing at nothing, he looked annoyed, but Cartman assumed, not necessarily turned off. Hell, at least he wasn’t. He loved riling up Kyle. Before this month of… _Whatever_ was going on between them started, he practically got off on it.

 “Relax, I’m just fucking with you.” It was true, but there was an undeniable part of him that felt slightly self-conscious about Kyle and Stan’s relationship. Cartman was jealous and possessive as it was, and the closer he was getting to Kyle, the harder it was to ignore. It didn’t help that he always felt a little envious of the two boys and the bond they shared. Like he was always the odd man out, even with Kenny by his side.

 Did he have the right to be insecure? By most standards, probably not. They had been intimate a handful of times over the month of November, sharing the company of each other in the secrecy of Stark Pond. They parked in an out clove that was easy to drive in, shrouded by darkness apart from natural glow of the moon.

 These encounters never crept past the confines of Liane Cartman’s station wagon. Maybe it was too intimate for them for them to take it to Cartman’s bedroom. It sure as hell wouldn’t be in Kyle’s; no one wanted to be there with his overbearing mother anyway, her son included.

 Cartman always admired Kyle from afar. His early years of hatred and obsession somehow boiled over into lust. He liked Kyle’s attention, positive or otherwise, enjoying when emerald eyes focused on him and only him. He loved when he got all worked up, reveling in the passion that welled up in the Jew’s expression. How his voice would raise in pitch and quiver when he _really_ yelled, and when his cheeks flushed with fury.

 The idea he looked like that when he fucked always strayed into the front of his brain when they argued, spawning like hot flashes, making Cartman remind himself to keep Kyle at an arm’s length. He turned out to be correct though; he kind of _did_ look like that when he fucked, except sometimes his eyebrows and his mouth twitched when he cummed. One of the little observations that Cartman made.

 Now, although the terms were confusing, Cartman had him—his body, at the least. But he didn’t _truly_ have him, did he? Yes, they fucked, which still seemed like some distant dream on another dimensional plane, but it wasn’t like they were… _Dating_ or anything. Sometimes, after dropping him off and curling up alone in bed, he wonder just how he got Kyle to sleep with him considering the basis of their relationship.

 That part wasn’t a dream, although hazy. The first time they fucked. And Cartman didn’t need to use his cunning to entice him, either. It started with a party at Token’s. Followed by shots with Kyle and Stan. Kyle arguing with him, practically falling against him as he did so. Bumming a smoke from Kenny and smoking it with Kyle in his mother’s car, which found its way to Stark Pond.

 The memory became a little clearer when he leaned over and brushed his hand along Kyle’s thigh, fueled by the confidence of alcohol, and kept there when Kyle didn’t push him away. On the contrary, he found himself wrapped up in his limbs, legs around his round waist and arms embracing his neck. He remembered Kyle tasting like cheap vodka, with faint traces of cigarettes and cinnamon gum. They kissed until he rolled him onto his stomach and fucked him, watching the muscles in his shoulders tighten with every drive into his shaking body, his hair freed from his hat and sticking to his forehead.

 Now here they were, a month later. Kyle had his back to him as he resumed his typing to Stan, more than likely annoyed with him. Cartman hesitantly ran a hand down his back, watching as the other boy grimaced pointedly over his shoulder.

 “Look, Marsh will be fine, Wendy just likes to boss him around. At this rate, I think he probably likes it, too. You know how Testaburger is,” Cartman reached for the beer they were sharing resting upright on the floor, taking a sip before continuing. “She’s seriously such a hard-ass. How else does he put up with her shit unless he secretly gets a boner for it?”

 “Cartman,” Kyle scolded but he didn’t disagree as he put his phone away once more, turning to face him again. Settling again on the back of his legs, he raised a brow and crossed his arms, obviously not finished with his interrogation. “You never answered my question.”

 “What question?” Cartman shot back, raising one of his own eyebrows.

 “Why you say that crap about Stan and me?”

 Cartman threw him an unimpressed stare in hopes of ending the conversation. However, his friend was determined to get an answer, and Cartman became pissed when Kyle yanked the beer from his grasp. Craning his long neck, he maneuvered in a way that kept him fresh in Eric’s sight, his stare intense and unamused. It took everything within Cartman not to make a joke that he looked reminiscent of his mother; that would ruin the mood for the both of them.

 “...What?! _Kahl_ ,” Kyle bared his teeth at the mispronunciation of his name but said nothing. “It’s all in good fun, I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive!” Calming down, Cartman tugged the alcohol out of Kyle’s hands, not without throwing him a pout. “Look, I can’t help you two are butt-buddies. Just callin’ ‘em like I see’s ‘em.”

 Cartman didn’t like the idea of his counterpart knowing where his true feelings lied; that he harbored these insecure notions that nagged at him every time another person merely looked in Kyle’s direction. It didn’t necessarily need to be Stan, but he was guilty more than anyone, considering how much the two hung around each other. If there was a face that needed to be pinned to the brunt of his teasing, it would be his, despite Cartman knowing Stan was loyal to Wendy. In the end, it was other people he should have worried about. He didn’t know if and who Kyle courted on the side.

 Kyle was studying him and that made Cartman uncomfortable. Eric Cartman was skilled in reading people, and due to his many years dealing with a borderline maniacal captivation with this person in particular, knew his mannerisms like the back of his hand. But with their constant bickering, he knew Kyle could read him well enough. The Jew was way too intelligent and fussy not to. It was part of his attraction to him; he could see right through Cartman in a way that many could not. It was a hindrance as much as it was hot.

 Cartman tried to keep his cool, his expression flat, his poker face perfected ages ago. For a moment, he thought he was getting away scott free. Kyle delicately slipped the beer bottle from out of his fingers and after a long gulp, placed it carefully in a cup holder, looking inconspicuous as he wiped his mouth along the back of his sleeve.

 "You’re _jealous_ , Fatass.” Cartman’s heart sunk to the pit of his guts.

 “Excuse me?” Cartman made it his personal duty to look away—his cover was possibly faltering. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jew.” With his head turned, Cartman heard the shifting of the leather seat beside him, willing himself to look back over, determined not to lose this battle of wits.

 There was Kyle, no longer sitting, but on his hands and knees. There was a cunning smile on his face, one that would have fueled Cartman’s nightmares back in elementary school: a toothy sneer that promised guile only a Jew could muster. The only consolation to be had was that his back bowed downwards, and the moonlight casted a reflection of his heart-shaped ass on the window behind him. Although lovely, it was only a momentary distraction from Kyle’s gloating and his own dread.

 “You’re fucking jealous,” His laughter made Cartman turn red. “Of Stan? Fucking _please_ , Cartman…”

 “I swear to God, Kyle, if you don’t shut up—”

 “You’ll do what?” Cartman’s cock twitched at his sultry tone, watching him as he eased closer, feeling his thin frame drape itself across his lap. Wide, green eyes glimmered with mischievousness. “You’ll do what, _Eric_?”

 It was moments like these he wondered why he let that Jewish son of a bitch ensnare him like he did. How Kyle could just wrap him around his finger as he rolled onto his back, allowing Cartman full access to his unfastened jeans. His pubes stuck out a bit, his pants now hanging dangerously low on his pelvis. It was red like the hair on his head, only darker and even more coarse.

 Cartman couldn’t resist, especially when Kyle blushed the way he did. All his attempts of being an ever powerful _Incubus_ were thrown out the car window when he turned red like that. He never told Cartman if he was virgin or not, before they had sex. Kyle was Eric’s first, not that he ever told him.

 Eric leaned forward to brush his lips against his ear, sliding chubby fingers down the other’s thin abdomen. He felt him swiftly intake air and his skin break out into goosebumps. He was entranced by the way he reacted to his touch, adding to the bizarreness of their encounters. Kyle clearly wanted him.

 “I’ll shut you the fuck up the best way I can,” Cartman promised. Kyle’s stomach tensed as he knotted his hands through the trail of hair below his briefs. Eric wasted no time as he palmed at the other’s erection, which tented the front of his underwear, watching Kyle arch up and lean into his light caresses. Hands found the round sides of his face as Kyle pulled him into a kiss, tasting the cheap beer they shared on his tongue as he guided it into his mouth.

 Kyle’s moans were muffled as he fisted his cock, guiding his large fingers up and down the whole length of him. Even their first time, after his initial nerves, giving a handjob wasn’t all too nerve wracking. He had done it to himself plenty of times before. He brushed his thumb along the wetted tip and used his whole grasp to tug at him delicately, Kyle by now as hard as he could be.

 Cartman pulled off his mouth and took a shuddering breath, watching as Kyle dropped down to his hands to unbutton the front of his jeans. His touch felt cold against his own hot erection, thin fingers wrapping around him and jerking him off with just as much vigor.

 “I kind of like it,” Cartman looked confused while shifting his hips in a way that made Kyle’s gesture easier, unable to tear his eyes off his tantalizing mouth.

 “Like what?” Kyle scoffed at his poor memory, but found the circumstances excuse enough. He squeezed Cartman lightly as he began to shift back onto his knees, easing his jeans lower on the other’s wide hips.

 “The idea you get so jealous,” Cartman’s cock was pulled out from his boxers, who watched as Kyle slowly stroked it with the utmost care. Though hazy from his touch, he was enamored by his words and didn’t interrupt him in hopes of hearing more. “Not about Stan, though. That’s fucking ludicrous.”

 Kyle grinned up at him before swallowing him, Cartman digging his toes into the insides of his sneakers. His mouth felt wonderful, and with practice, Kyle had perfected the art of breathing through his nose. His tongue flattened as it dragged along the side of his dick, curling and tracing, soon replaced by the overall suction of his mouth. Eric quickly pushed his ushanka off his head and threaded his way through his hair, lightly pulling at the sensitive curls. A muffled moan made Kyle’s throat vibrate around him, and a small cry of his own betrayed his silence.

 The redhead released him, looking up at his friend with swollen lips and half-lidded eyes. Cartman remembered the hand still resting between Kyle’s legs and resumed his playful touching. “I really… I really am joking. About the hippie and you. I just… Well, it does get you all pissed.”

 Breathless as he chuckled, Kyle carefully used both hands to pull Cartman’s grasp from out of his pants. “Which you have an affinity for.” Kyle lifted up to straddle him, Cartman letting out a pleased hiss as he felt denim press lightly against his bare prick.

 “It’s my favorite past time, Kahl,” he murmured, guiding his face into the crook of his neck. Nipping lightly at his pulse, he watched how his Adam’s apple bobbed when his head leaned back. His ringlets fell down his shoulders in an untidy fashion, but Cartman liked how natural and feral it made him look. He used to tease him for his Jew-fro; now he never wanted him to cut it.

 “Mmmmm,” A hand found its way into his own hair, Kyle twisting his fingers hesitantly and gingerly rubbing his scalp. “I think…” Cartman heard the skepticism in his voice. “I think, just maybe… You like me… Or something.”

 Kyle felt the grasp on his hips tighten as Cartman stopped the assault on his throat. For a moment, Kyle was a little nervous he pushed too far. He enjoyed teasing Cartman, if out of necessity for the constant torment he was put through. But maybe this was too sensitive of a subject. He saw the looks Cartman threw his way since first sleeping with him. They weren’t an act he was trying to lure Kyle in with, to make fun of him or to trick him. The emotion in those big, blue eyes were real; Cartman was a good actor, but sometimes he let his emotions get the best of his abilities.

 “...Me? Like a _Jew_? A _Daywalker-Jew_?” Kyle rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be pushed along the seat below them, now staring flatly up at the larger boy. “Never.”

 Cartman caught an unfamiliar flash in Kyle’s gaze before it disappeared. Was it hurt? He felt conflicted over it. The majority of him, despite regularly teasing Kyle, hoped not. But the other part of him felt thrilled over the idea. Maybe Kyle wanted Cartman to like him a little more than as a friend.

 “Well,” Kyle huffed as he began to wiggle out of his jacket, flinging it across the front seat of the car. “You sure don’t mind fucking a Daywalker-Jew.”

 “It’s the best way to learn your bewitching methods, Kahl. _Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer_ ,” Cartman purred as he pulled Kyle’s shirt off from over his head. That actually made the skinnier boy laugh, who watched closely as his heavier counterpart ducked his head lower to kiss down his chest. “Gotta… Infiltrate from the inside…”

 Kyle cooed softly when lips encircled his nipple and moaned when teeth pinched the end of it, feeling a chill travel all the way up his spine. Large hands were pulling at his jeans, tugging them down his legs in a desperate fashion that Kyle knew refuted Cartman’s last argument.

 The way Cartman touched him spoke volumes in comparison to his usual nasty quips about him. Even now, as he ran his fingers along his thighs, it was tender, if not greedy. Kyle peeked downwards as Cartman pressed his face into his groin, kissing along his legs, grazing his skin with his teeth in a way that made his whole body twitch. He liked Kyle a lot more than he was letting on, and the redhead couldn’t deny how the thought made his heart flutter.

 This was the most difficult part of their liaisons. Cartman was a rather large man at the age of 18, both height and width. If not the tallest in their class, he was big, and he always would be. It never revolted Kyle seeing him naked. Perhaps it was an acquired taste. Cartman was heavy, yes. He called him Fatass out of habit, and maybe now because of their new circumstances, with fondness. But he had the attractive features of his mother; a nice jawline along his chubby face, with icy, blue eyes (thanks to Kenny) and a sort of cute, upturned nose. Not to mention he also had perfect hair. Besides, Kyle found himself to be way too scrawny; what an odd pairing they probably made.

 The pair usually made due by Cartman propping himself up with a knee on the floor, the rest of his body draped over him. Now he was sitting up, making his way out of his jacket and t-shirt. “Get the stuff.”

 Kyle frowned, obviously not wanting to move but obeying anyway. His pants were lowered down to his knees, and as pushed his way between the two front seats of the car, gave Cartman a flawless view of his backside. He took advantage of the situation by staring openly.

 “...Are you fucking someone else?” Cartman decided, with Kyle’s own investigating, he could do a little of his own. The boy noticeably bristled at the question as he reached inside the glove compartment, momentarily pausing in his search for the lubricant to glower back at him.

 “...I can’t believe you’re asking me this. _No_ ,” Kyle said firmly before he turned back to fetching what was necessary for them to proceed. His tone was no nonsense, leaving room out for jokes. Kyle’s admission sent a wave of relief through Eric, who remembered to breathe since awaiting his answer.

 “So, am I the first or what?” Cartman decided he didn’t want Kyle to move from his position just yet, how slightly uncomfortable it was. Both hands grabbed onto his ass to spread him, making Kyle gasp and buck against the middle console beneath him.

 “C-Christ, Eric,” Kyle peered over his shoulder once again, feeling exposed to the draft in the vehicle. “What is it to you...?”

 Cartman looked tickled by his response, his laughter low and set deep in his throat. “Answering a question with a question, hm?” Kyle went stiff as Eric leaned in closer, his breath warm against the crack of his ass. “That sounds like a classic case of question dodging, Kahl.”

 He licked a long trail along his cleft, tracing the pucker that rested in between, loving the way Kyle contorted against the hands holding him open. The Jew loved it when Cartman licked along his ass with his tongue, his pleased weeping proof enough. He never cummed when he did it; but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to get him to right now.

 “O-oh God,” Kyle’s breathing became ragged as he arched upwards towards the pokes of his tongue, Cartman opening his eyes enough to study the notches in his spine. He was so thin; Kyle felt like he was too thin, describing himself as ‘spindly.’ With jutting hips, he was skinny and lanky, but handsome none the less. Besides, he had a little plumpness in his ass: the only place it mattered. “ _Yes_ …! Yes, you were the first,”

 He released a quivering Kyle, who sat up panting but irritated. Cartman grinned from ear to ear as he started to toe off his boots, merely shrugging for his actions. “...You needed to be interrogated.” The bottle of lube was thrown at his chest. He caught it with both laughter and an ‘ _oof_!’, a clearly angered Kyle throwing his now shed jeans at him as well.

 “Well, what, I wasn’t _your_ first?!” Kyle was red from head to toe, which was apparent now that he was completely naked, his shoes even ditched elsewhere. “Don’t even lie about that one, Fatass!” Cartman laughed as he began to pull down his own jeans.

 “I didn’t plan on it! Jeez, take a fucking chill-pill, Broflovski.”

 That was the end of this argument, making it one of the many. Their fighting lacked the luster it used to have and had become comparably shorter. As Kyle got on all fours, his nostrils flared like a bull, an aggressive act that went straight to Cartman’s crotch. ‘ _Hate fucking_ ,’ wasn’t the right word, because Kyle and Cartman hadn’t claimed to hate each other in years. It was just… Their dynamic. And for two hot-headed people, it worked very well.

 “Aww, Kyle,” Cartman ‘ _tsked_ ’ as he flipped open the cap of the lube, Kyle peering back at him expectantly at the familiar sound of a bottle being squeezed. “Why _do_ you always get so embarrassed when I lick that sweet ass of yours?”

 The Jew looked anything but amused, his legs twitching when a cold, wet finger slid against his opening. “I don’t… Get embarrassed,” though he did, both by the action itself and how wonderful it really did feel.

 “That blush says otherwise,” Truly, Kyle blushed with any amount of assplay, whether out of embarrassment or from the actual sensation. Without hesitation, Cartman pressed in a thick finger to breach him, watching the way Kyle closed his eyes tight and bit his lip. He fought not to laugh as he turned bright scarlet. “Not helping your case, Jew.”

 “S-shut up,” Eyes fluttered open as the digit invaded deeper, Cartman letting out a low groan at the depth and tight-heat. His free hand squeezed the flesh of his ass, kneading it as he crooked his finger knowingly, and smirking when Kyle tensed up with a choked groan.

 The length of their foreplay could technically be deemed unnecessary, considering Kyle had been penetrated enough for Cartman to slide in without much trouble. But sex brought its own distractions, and now Eric could sit back and let his hand do the work, having the freedom of watching Kyle with every ounce of his attention.

 In its own twisted way, he liked to think he was manipulating him, playing him like an instrument that could bend at his will—and with him leaning forward on his arms and pushing his ass into the air, he was literally _bending_ at Cartman’s will, with fists clenched tight. When he managed to open his eyes and stare back at Cartman, simply looking needy, he had to use his last shred of self-control to further prep him. Kyle looked uncomfortable when he briefly stretched him with two fingers, but antsy when he eased his hand from out of him.

 “C’mon,” Kyle grunted, opening his legs as wide as the seat permitted. Eric was busy prepping himself when the other boy reached backwards and stretched his ass open with one hand, exposing the already stretched hole for Cartman to see. Kyle became impatient and bossy during intercourse—it was unbelievably sexy to Cartman, who advanced on him like a moth to light. He pushed his hand away and replaced it with his own, stretching Kyle wide again, but this time nudging along his warm crevice with the head of his dick.

 Taking his time to push in was not an option, because Kyle was already insistently pressing upwards, letting out a whine when Eric breached him not enough to his liking. “Fuck me, j-just fuck me,” He only quieted when Eric relented, grinning as he plunged into him with one hefty push. Kyle gasped and tightened beneath him with just a half of dick in him.

 “So fucking impatient,” He teased, deciding to edge the rest in slowly until he could fit no longer, feeling himself bottom out. Cartman received a quiet whimper when he eased out an inch or so. With a shallow thrust back inside, he watched Kyle cry out with a backwards toss of his head.

 “F-fuck you,” was his shaky retort, Cartman chuckling as he ran a comforting hand through his hair. Kyle was sweating profusely already, the brunette knowing he was trying to hide the twinge of pain he felt along his spine. Feeling sympathetic, he held off on another thrust for him to adjust, taking the moment to merely appreciate the tight heat around him. A quivering Kyle took the initiative and shifted, enough so that Cartman felt himself slip out a little, the boy beneath him squirming as incentive.

 He readjusted both hands on Kyle’s hips and placed his knee back onto the floor, needing it as leverage on the tight backseat. Cartman was far too big otherwise, but this execution seemed to work just fine, giving his stocky legs enough room to deliver. He pulled halfway out before pressing back in, watching Kyle shoulders twitch with every continuous thrust. Only when Kyle fully relaxed could he fuck him hard enough to nearly pull all the way out. Cartman groaned when he was rewarded with the abrupt gasp he was looking for.

 The first time he let his tenacity get the best of him, he swore he hurt Kyle. All movements ceased and Eric even felt guilty, just short of pulling completely out before Kyle stopped him. The way he demanded him not to pull out, asking for _more_ , was nothing short of music to Eric’s ears. He was more than happy to oblige. So Eric wasn’t afraid to go rough, and he knew Kyle, who was never shy when speaking his mind, would let him know when it was too much to handle.

 The Jew liked when he picked up the pace, glancing back at Cartman with a growl, and the way a few curls twisted in front of his face made him look all the more ferocious. “D-don’t stop,”

 Cartman raised an eyebrow, knowing damn well with how wonderful Kyle felt, he could never. He felt glorious; slick, hot, and like a vice. And Kyle was already close with how his insides constricted, his eyes shut tight as a cheek pressed against the hot leather beneath them.

 “Close, Kahl...?” He was too, he had no right to tease, yet he couldn’t help himself. A large, shuddering hand wrapped around Kyle’s cock, groaning when he unconsciously tightened around him, his own toes curling at the way Kyle cried. It was moments like this the Jew looked the most beautiful and captivating. Cartman felt hot cum soil his hand as Kyle jerked beneath him, fascinated by how his spine curved up against him like the letter ‘C.’

 “G-God damn, Kyle,” Cartman leaned forward, careful not to crush him with his weight as he hugged him to his chest. Kyle felt large arms keep him close as the last few twitches of Cartman’s hips brought on his orgasm. Tiredly, as Cartman breathed heavily against his ear, Kyle reached up and clutched his meaty forearm, letting him rest their despite how uncomfortable he felt. His ass hurt a little and Cartman was most certainly heavy, but he knew both boys enjoyed the proximity—maybe even needed it.

 Kyle felt like he could breathe again when Cartman lifted off and out of him, the high from sex helping him cope better with the unusual sensation of leaking. He knew cum was running down the crack of his ass as he moved to sit up.

 “You got a towel...?” The redhead rasped, using his hand to wipe up semen running down his leg.

 “Yeah...Think so,” Cartman didn’t respond right away, enjoying the remains of his handy work slipping down Kyle’s asscrack, leaning against the door as he took in the view.

 “...Well, can you fucking get it?” Kyle got all suddenly timid after sex, earning a rich laugh from Cartman.

 “Not with that attitude, Kahl.” But Cartman did as he was told, pulling a fresh towel from out of the open trunk behind them. He was mindful after their first encounter to always pull one out from the linen closet before he met up with Kyle; the finicky Jew nearly had a _conniption_ when he had to use his t-shirt to clean himself up instead. His mother never questioned why there was an influx of sticky towels in the laundry basket, thankfully.

 Kyle cleaned himself first, Cartman waiting diligently as he meticulously wiped himself till deemed dry. Cartman was less particular; satisfied with a quick polish to his junk, he tossed the mussed towel back into the trunk and reached for the forgotten beer in the cupholder, not surprised to find it flat.

 “Ugh,” Cartman turned the manual crank for the window opened so he could pour out the remains of their beer, making a revolted face. “Well, that went to shit real fast. Why does Kenny always get us _Miller High Life_? Taste like crap,” Cartman tossed the bottle out next, hearing it clink against a few rocks but not break. When he was met with silence, he looked over to see Kyle typing away at his cell phone again, giving him a look of disbelief.

 “...You have to be fucking _kidding_ me, Jew—”

 “I’m asking Stan to cover for me.” Kyle tossed the cell phone back into the messy pile of clothes underneath the seat, now laying back and resting his feet across Cartman’s lap.

 “Cover for you?” Cartman looked confused, taking a hold of one of Kyle’s feet to squeeze it ruefully, knowing how ticklish he was. He twisted enough to pull his foot free, not without a harmless kick to Cartman’s plush side.

 “Well, my mom thinks I’m sleeping there,” He murmured, making Eric all the more bewildered. The moon lit up his whole body, making his white skin look almost grey. He could see shadows in between Kyle’s ribs with the way his torso was stretched. It was eerie and beautiful all at once.

 “Aren’t you?” Cartman huffed out, reaching downwards to slip back on his t-shirt.

 “No,” Kyle draped a hand over his eyes as he mumbled. “...This is the part you stop being a pussy and invite me to sleep over, Fatass.”

 Cartman clumsily stopped trying to wiggle his boxers back on, blinking over at Kyle in shock. As if blindly feeling his gaze, Kyle removed his arm and raised his head, merely shrugging in his direction. “...I’m waiting?”

 “...Well, well, well…” The hoarse sigh that Kyle released told a delighted Cartman he was immediately regretting his decision. “Feeling comfortable enough to invite yourself to _my_ house, Kahl? You know…” Cartman leaned forward enough to scoop the other boy up onto his lap, who looked grouchy but didn’t complain. “I think _you_ like _me_ ,”

 Two sets of eyes locked onto each other as Kyle placed his hands on Cartman’s broad shoulders, making his heart palpitate. Kyle leaned forward and stole his breath away with a soft kiss, lacking tongue but still filled with just as much passion as their last.

 “Me? Like a _Fatass_? A _racist_ _Fatass_?” Both boys could hardly contain a smile. “Never. Now drive my ‘sweet ass’ back to your house—but stop at KFC first.”

 “...Are you trying to ask me on a date, Kahl?”

 “Shut the hell up and give me my underwear, Fatass.”

 Cartman knew it, at that moment, and he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face: they both cared, maybe even loved each other, more than they were willing to admit. He wouldn’t tease Kyle about Stan anymore, not more than necessary. And maybe he’d even learn to listen a little better. Maybe.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. This is my first SP fic so hopefully it felt somewhat in character or whatever. I'd like to thank snackysmores for beta'ing.


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